LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Cliap....h!._ Copyright Jfo. 

^N/TED"sT^TES0F7SrA. 



The Loom of Life 




WILLIAM HARPER RIDER, D.D 



The Loom of Life 



BY / 



WILLIAM HARPER RIDER, D.D, 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

C. E. HURLBUT 




CLEVEivAND: Ubc ffiurrows JBrotbers 
Company, PUBI.ISHERS, MDCCCXCIX 






Copyright, 1898 

BY 

William Harper Rider 



D£0 1 9 1223 



A 



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Iroprrfal Press 

CLBVELAND 



/^ 



TO MY FATHER 

For whom the Loom of Life has run 
More than fourscore years and one; 

AND TO MY MOTHER 

To whom the " brighter sun " has risen. 
And the ''fadeless crown " is given; 

And both of whom 

A pattern wove whose tints shall last 
When rolling years their bounds have past. 



Contents 



Preface 

The Loom of Life 

Childhood . 

Boyhood 

Manhood 

The Sea-Nymph 

Freyja 

Warfare 

Aurora 

Vesper 

New Voices 

Lullaby 

The Dream . 

Home 

Ragnarok 

Finale 



15 
19 
23 

25 
27 

30 
31 
36 
39 
43 
44 
45 
47 
50 
51 
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Illustrations 

William Harper Rider, D.D . Frontispiece 
*' That old Loom yonder in the corner" . 14 
*' Holidays and games and plays " . 22 

"The day is done, 
And shades of evening hasten on " .42 



Preface 

That old log cabin and log fireplace; that 
old Loom yonder in the corner ; that rustling 
willow-tree, and the door by which it stood as 
a weather sentinel ; those inimitable cadences — 
the tick-tock of that old timepiece, the ring of 
that bell, the click of that latch on the cup- 
board-door, the clang of that porchdoor, the 
bang of that gate ; 

" The hallowed feet and hands and faces, 
The smiles and tears and words and graces ' ' 

of those who once were there : to millions these 
things awaken memories and sentiments the 
very dearest to the human heart. 

Nor is the life behind these cherished to- 
kens, hallowed symbols, and precious memo- 
ries without its great and unspeakable signifi- 
cance. Nations and individuals grow through 
imagination, emotion, and reflection. The 

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world, each nation, and the individual, have 
alike their childhood, boyhood, manhood. 
Faith, hope, love, and all the variant senti- 
ments and feelings with which they combine — 
imagination, reason, passion, things good and 
things evil, — mingle and "unroll the screen 
of mortal life. ' ' 

No mention need be made of Greek and 
Roman mythology, but to some readers the 
Norse mythology may seem obscure, since it 
is less popular, — undeservedly so, for it is the 
richest in all the world. 

Odin needs no introduction, nor does Thor. 
Mimer's Fount was under one of the roots of 
Igdrasil, the great tree of life. It symbolizes 
wisdom. It was owned by Mimer (personifying 
memory), who drank of its waters every morn- 
ing. Odin drank at this fountain, and here 
the gods held council, coming and going on 
the rainbow. 

Freyja was the goddess of love. The poem 
itself is somewhat explanatory of this mythical 
character. 

Ragnarok is death, destruction, resurrection, 
immortality. The earth, according to the 

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Norse fathers, was to be destroyed by fire pre- 
ceded by a mighty cataclysm, and the gods 
themselves were to die. But unlike the Greek 
and Roman systems, which knew no death of 
the gods, the Norse ideal was that of a final 
triumph over death and a glorious resurrection 
and immortality. The Valhal halls correspond 
to our Paradise and Gimle to our Heaven. 

To tell the story of human life ; to picture to 
the imagination its hopes blasted and realized, 
and the experiences that enter into it ; to show 
its reality, and the elements of character that 
give it success; to portray it as no ''idle 
dream, ' ' but as a manly " warfare ; " to reveal 
the beautiful and holy sentiments of conjugal, 
parental, and filial love ; to inspire hope of the 
home beyond, and scatter some helpful les- 
sons, is the aim and mission of The Loom of 
Life. 

W. H. R. 

Cleveland, Ohio, 
December, 1898. 



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The Loom of Life 

Awake ! old Loom of long ago, 
Whose shed-worn shuttle to and fro 
Along the batten-ledge flew fast, 
As winter's winds went moaning past 

And logfire answered thy refrain 

Awake ! old Loom, and speak again. 

No foot has to thy treadle laid, 
Or hand upon thy batten played. 
Or whipped the picking-stick at will, 
Or empty bobbins cared to fill, 
Since mother blended with thy strain 
A song we fain would hear again. 

The pulleys, heddle-leaves, warp-beam, 
And ropes, and all, so listless seem; 
The cloth-beam, reed, all dusted o'er. 

And leash-rods lying on the floor 

Awake ! the web of life disclose, 
Unnumbered threads this web compose. 
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Bring back the sky that shone so bright 
When only years seemed slow in flight ; 
Of boyhood tell, and manhood, too. 
Ambition's dreams of roseate hue; 
Of love, of home, of fireside glees, 
Of voices new at mother's knees. 

Then turn of life page after page. 
Old age of youth, youth of old age ; 
And ere the shuttle's work is done, 
And mortal thread its course has run. 
Pluck from the amaranthine bowers. 
And weave a crown of fadeless flowers. 




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Childhood 

Tender and sweet the cherub face, — 
The bard of Avon ne'er could trace 
The picture of those joys and fears 
Hung on the wall of childhood years; 
The simple faith, and hope, and love, 
Type of the kingdom from above. 

Early days of school and home, 
Prophetic dreams of years to come, 
Holidays and games and plays 
He wove together in joyful lays ; 
No care for manhood's ills and strife, 
Or burdens borne in later life. 



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Cops of gold and some of blue, 
(The old Loom mused as the shuttle flew), 
Silver threads for gifts and toys, 
Threads of white for childish joys. 
Deftly from the weaver's hand 
Fall the colors gay and grand. 
Sunbeams bright through rifts of gold 
Mirror the dawn of days of old. 



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Boyhood 

The sun o'ertops the hill and main, 
And greets the life of dell and plain. 
For path of fame he marks a way 
Spangled with gems and flowers gay, 
O'er which the knight is seen to tread — 
Ambition's eye sees naught to dread; 
Outstretched in palm of jewelled hand 
Is seen the wealth of all the land. 

Like Odin in the mythic age 
From Mimer's fount with warriors sage, 
The knight ascends with shield unfurled 
On rainbow stair to distant world ; 
Demands its scepter, empire, throne, 
Its honors, riches, all his own. 



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These fairy worlds will scarce weave in, * ' 
The old Loom said with smile unseen. 
The warp and woof would longer last, 
If less gay colors we would cast. 
Will-o'-the-wisp by night is seen, 
But ne'er by day in th' sun's bright sheen. 
One page of life, one lesson new, 
The flower has drunk its cup of dew, 
A higher plateau the traveler's view. 

Life's morn how like a sunbeam 
Its wavelets rocking on ; 
-^olian breezes fan it, 
And crest of tints is in it 
Of rainbows, prisms, and diamonds : 
One moment more — 'tis gone! 

Trolls and sprites dance all around us, 
Flickering candles dimly burn ; 

Bursted bubbles ! fairy dreamland ! 
Naughty elves life's pages turn. 




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Manhood 

The sky-domed heights forbid ascent ; 

The vision backward now is bent. 

As eagle's pinion, broken, hurled 

The monarch to a lower world, 

So headlong down Olympus came 

The plume-plucked knight of fancied fame. 

To manhood's eyes on earthly strand 
No vision's seen of fairyland. 
But stretching to the hills afar, 
Smoke-ladened air and wheels ajar, 
A real world with spirit rife 
Unrolls its screen of mortal life : — 



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The cry of birth, muteness of death; 
The vestal virgin, harlot's breath; 
The toiler's brawn, the lily hand; 
The squalid hut, the mansion grand ; 
Joy, sorrow, love, envy, and hate — 
All, all are here, this scene create. 

As Newton's apple from its source 
Unerring followed in its course, 
So true to life the old Loom keeps, 
And every thread a lesson speaks. 

And this the moral woven now — 
'Tis laurel wreath on manhood's brow: 
The urn of life — rose-hidden thing — 
No pigment asks of angel wing. 
Or lythrum leaves of vain pretense ; 
It yields its perfume to the sense. 

The anchor's weighed, the ropes are hurled, 
The ship is trimmed, the sails unfurled. 
Be rough or smooth the voyage now, 
To port beyond is set the prow, 
-^olus may his lash resound. 
And belted Thor with hammer pound ; 
With sextant, compass, pilot true, 
We've not to fear our voyage through. 

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In eag-le-bearer's hand on high 
Columbia's flag shall light the sky. 
Its every bar of white and red, 
Its every star and every thread 
That doth these States in union wed, 
Unfurling o'er the Mayflower strand. 
Declare the freedom of our land. 




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The Sea-Nymph 

Now merrily sail ye, 
Sweet breezes regale thee, 

Joyful thy journey over the sea. 
No siren caress thee, 
Or Scylla distress thee. 

Watchful thy journey over the sea. 
Sweetheart be near thee, 
Always to cheer thee. 

Blissful thy journey over the sea. 
The haven ne'er fail thee, 
Nor loved ones to hail thee, 

Happy thy journey over the sea. 



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Freyja 

The Iceland lore, 
In days of yore, 

Of Freyja told. 
Her hair was flowers. 
Her tears were showers 

Of liquid gold. 

Love's goddess she 
Whose company 

No home denied. 
So here and there. 
And everywhere. 

The goddess tied 

The nuptial knot. 
And only sought 

The pure incense 
Of ditty sweet 
For lovers mete 

As recompense. 
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The debt to pay- 
In lover's lay, 

And goddess please, 
The Harper wove 
This song of love 

At Freyja's knees: — 

Of mate bereft 
The robin left 

The lonely nest, 
And notes of pain 
Sang o'er the main. 

In joyless quest. 

But loud his song. 
And sweet and long. 

When mate he brings ; 
Beside the nest. 
With hoven crest. 

His carol sings. 

'Mid Eden's bowers, 
Paths clad with flowers, 

God first made home ; 
Of him most blest. 
The last and best 

'Neath heaven's dome. 

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" And Son of God, 
When earth he trod, 

To Cana went. 
Their hearts to cheer, 
Himself drew near, 

His blessing lent. 

*' Then stone on stone, 
Steps to a throne, 

Each set with care. 
For naught amiss. 
And perfect bliss. 
Our wishes share. ' ' 

With holy fire 
The song and lyre 

Two hearts inflame. 
They two embrace 
In tender grace, 

And one became. 

The while he sung 
The goddess flung 

Into the air 
Blue violets 
And mignonettes 

And roses rare, 
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Almond of hope 
And heliotrope, 

Anemone ; 
Hyacinth blue 
And myrtle, too, 

And linden tree, 

And orange flowers. 
Ambrosial bowers 

Mute tokens brought, 
While crowns and wreaths 
Of flowers and leaves 

The lovers wrought. 




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In shuttle's note of perfect bliss 
The old Loom joined and added this: 
And friends, as sands that girt the sea, 
Cecilia's harp for minstrelsy." 



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Warfare 

When Titans fold their arms to rest, 
White clouds droop to the mountain's crest 
But when again the storm renews, 
Fringed to their skirts the murky hues 
Of other clouds from earthen floor 
Rise, whirl, and blend, and hover o'er. 

So foes with friends may mingle, too, 
And paint thy sky in darker hue. 
Be ready, warrior, for the fray 
When lowering clouds bedim thy way. 
Be this thy motto : Do thy best ! 
To Faith and God leave all the rest. 

No idle dream this life of ours. 

No rosy couch in sylvan bowers. 

We wrestle not 'gainst flesh and blood, 

Babylon's arms, or Egypt's flood. 

But wickedness in places high. 

Throned kings of darkness lurking nigh. 



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Wherefore in panoply of God, 

Thy feet with peace of Gospel shod, 

Loins girt with truth, and faith thy shield, 

The word thy sword, the world thy field. 

Go forth to conquer self and sin. 

By grace through faith thy crown to win. 

Kneel thou to supplicate his name 
Who thy dread foe to conquer came. 
But sought he first a place of prayer. 
And twoscore days he lingered there ; 
Then hurled from Quarantana's height 
The dragon-angel masked in light. 

Follow that life from Bethlehem's khan 
To where tumultuous Jordan ran; 
Where the all-conquering power of love 
Was symboled by the peaceful dove. 
From Hermon's lofty ecstasy 
Go watch in dark Gethsemane. 
Too late to turn to Galilee, 
Or rest from toil in Bethany. 



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But follow on, if thou wouldst see, 
Mirrored for all eternity, 
How blend the cross, the crown, the throne 
Round one who did this world disown ; 
And who, to give the secret thee. 
Calls loudly, sweetly, Follow Me! 




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Aurora 

The sun's rays pierce the dark clouds through, 

And lesser stars bid night adieu. 

Earth is clothed in living green, 

Ripening fields in golden sheen, 

Floods of glory fill the skies, — 

To greet the day the sleepers rise. 

Early hands upon the Loom 

Bid its cords their task resume. 







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Vesper 

The old Loom rests, the day is done, 
And shades of evening hasten on. 
Swallows homeward wing their flight, 
The backlog sparkles 'gainst the night. 
The willow rustles at the door 
To pattering feet upon the floor. 

The soothing voice of whispered breeze, 

And strains from answering brooks and trees, 

Unite and to each other lend 

The notes that nightly, weirdly blend ; 

And through the shattered pane they creep 

Lulling the wakeful soul to sleep. 

New pictures hang upon the wall. 

Stockings for feet both large and small. 

Voices are heard of other days, 

But hushed by louder cradle lays. 

A happy time in life is this — 

The shuttle's wish of " perfect bliss." 



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New Voices 

List to the voice that said, 

At mama's knees, 
Bring out our trundle-bed. 

Papa, dear, please." 

Leap into loving arms. 
Kisses, three, four. 

Love pats and ruby charms. 
Again o'er and o'er. 

Then by their mama's side 
Kneel they in prayer ; 

Troubles can ne'er betide 
Little ones there. 

Now we lie down to sleep ; 

Dear Jesus, take 
These little souls of ours 

Till we shall wake. 



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Lullaby 

Gone is the day to the mists of the past, 
Rests the old world from its cares at last • 
Beat, little hearts, your eyes close in slumber, 
Of few evil days we have one more to number! 

Saints and angels vigils keep. 

While our eyes we close in sleep; 

Savior, fold us in thy breast, 

Give to thy beloved rest. 

There are snow-white lilies that never were 
stained. 

There are hearts now pulsing that never were 

pained ; 
Elysian fields where tares are unsown, 
And angels whose cup no sorrow has known. 
Saints and angels vigils keep. 
While our eyes we close in sleep; 
Savior, fold us in thy breast. 
Give to thy beloved rest. 
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Like the beautiful snow in its vesture of white, 
Like the lilies of earth and the angels in light, 
May the Shepherd Divine my little ones keep — 
Thus the mother heart yearns for her lambs 
while they sleep. 

Saints and angels vigils keep, 

While our eyes we close in sleep ; 

Savior, fold us in thy breast, 

Give to thy beloved rest. 




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The Dream 

There is a time, a place, a way 

That spirits have. 'Tis when, they say, 

Far from all sorrow and all mirth, 

From all the busy cares of earth, 

We sleep, and thoughts are turned toward 

heaven : 
To mortals, then, secrets are given. 

Sleep, mother, sleep; to seraph arms 
Commit thine all from all alarms. 
And from the spirit world on high, 
Down sweeping through the starlit sky, 
Come, angel, come, and guardian be ; 
The night-watch is resigned to thee. 

"Sweet evangel, who art thou? " 
Said the dreamer ; ' ' tell me how. 
Lost unto thy native sphere, 
Wanderest thou with mortals here? 
To my humble home ye came? 
What thy mission? what thy name? " 

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*' Mother, dear, thy lullaby- 
Reached the throne of God on high. 
Bells of heaven ceased to ring, 
Saints and angels ceased to sing, 
Till to quench thy heart's desire, 
One voice left the heavenly choir. 

' ' Saints and angels vigils keep. 

While our eyes we close in sleep, ' — 
Was not this thy prayer? The rest: 
* Savior, fold us in thy breast, 
Give to thy beloved rest. ' 
At thy word of prayer I came. 
This my mission : Love my name. 

*' Treat thy bidden guest thus ill? 
Ask, receive, and doubting still? 
Perfect faith knows no surprise. 
Earth it treads and sea and skies ; 
Majestic sits midst battle fears, 
Serenely sits midst wreck of spheres. 



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*'To God then trust thy treasures dear; 
It is not night when he is near. 
His own thy loves, yet thine to be, 
Twice panoplied by him and thee.'' 
At least three hearts beat at love's shrine, 
The two of earth, and one divine. 




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Home 

Of all the shrines on earthly sod, 

The nearest to the heart of God 

Is not where sun his quenchless fires 

Gleams down on Milan's forest spires; 

Or sword of Bunker Hill is clenched, 

And that from Briton's hand is wrenched; 

Or where Olympic race is run. 

And olive wreath by victor won ; 

Or where from Erie's prison walls 

Niagara's frenzied torrent falls: 

But where around the old fireside, 

At closing hour of eventide. 

Loved ones of home unite to raise 

The voice of prayer and song of praise. 



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Ragnarok 

The thirsty sun his droughts impose, 
Fades the green earth, blighted the rose ; 
From mountain tops storms hurl the trees, 
Rocks from their base the thunders seize ; 
Unchained the fires drink rivers dry, 
Decree that all the world shall die. 

But breaking from a brighter sun, 
Eternal in his course to run, 
A glory gilds the Valhal halls. 
And brighter light on Gimle falls. 
Of storms, of life, of death is this, 
Earth's sequel of unfading bliss. 



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Finale 

Farewell, old Loom, thy task is done, 
And mortal thread its course has run. 
Now rest the hands, the feet, that swayed 
Thy magic cords and fabric made. 
Hushed, too, a song, and quiet by 
The cypress-trees the weavers lie. 

No hand did e'er provoke thy strain 
To which thou gavest not again 
Good, beauty, and the false or true, 
As that same hand the shuttle threw. 
Each soul that on thy cords has played 
For all his labor is repaid. 
Shall weaver his own cloth disdain? 
Shall singer his own song profane? 

To thee the chain of acts we lent, 
And woven habits back were sent ; 
To wary or incautious tread 
Infixed on life another thread. 

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We work together, shuttle free, 
Yet both held by divine decree. 

We hold, we're held, captive, and free! 

This is love's law of liberty; 

And, with the mantle of God's grace 

Spread o'er the Loom of Life, we trace 

Our destiny for good or ill. 

So flies the human shuttle still. 

Think you to change this wondrous scheme, 

Or to account this song a dream? 

If beauty is from virtue flowered. 

May not all souls alike be dowered? 

And if love be the royal grace, 

Are there not crowns for all the race? 

This, then, the lesson thou wouldst teach 
To all the lives thy rude notes reach : 
That worse than vain it is to cast 
The tear-stained eye upon the past. 
And turn the somber pattern o'er, 
And, hopeless, worry evermore. 



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Select the threads of peace and joy, 
Goodness and faith without alloy ; 
To warp of virtue knowledge ply, 
The mellow tints of patience try ; 
Fill every shuttle from above, 
And color all with woof of love. 




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